How to Quickly Become Your Postman’s Favorite Blog!

Readers should already know of my love for mail. Mail order is a fine, endangered art thanks to the proliferation of instant gratification downloads. Yet such things only makes receiving a package in the mail that much sweeter.

Especially when you receive a package so shrouded in mystery that you actually stop caring about what it contains. This is the tale of such a package.

Right off the bat, I was excited. I order lots of stuff, but rarely do I receive stuff from Montana. All I know about Montana is that there’s a lot of snow up there, open spaces, and Indians. (Also some secessionists, but I think the government put them down decades ago.) And the only reason I know about the Indians is because I actually looked into going to college up there, and found out nearly half of the University of Montana’s student body is Indian.

Don’t ask me why I didn’t go, ‘cuz I don’t know.

The only thing better than getting a package in the mail is getting a package inside a package in the mail. (This phenomena clearly supersedes the sensation of plainly getting two packages in the mail. That’s just excitement x2. While this is excitement^2 [e.g. to the 2nd power]. It’s like a Russian nesting doll of goodness!

Especially when the second package is made out to people who aren’t you! One that’s covered, on both sides with sticker/stamp collages!

The above is actually the back of the package, where the creator has created a “kelp forest” collage; which they also kindly labelled. I did mention that, at this point, I really don’t care anymore what’s in the package, right?

The front bears a consortium of stamps, of all shapes and sizes; provided you’re stamp-sized and illustrated with aquatic life. Otherwise, you’re out of luck. What kind of aquatic life you ask? Again, the packager has kindly provided answers.

On the bottom of the package we find the answer key, also faintly written in pencil. I don’t know who Niki and Josh of Missoula, MT are, or what they did for Russel Daniels for him to make such a lovely package for them, ‘cuz it really doesn’t even matter anymore.

The mail order “bar” that all deliveries must meet has now been raised so high I’m embarrassed to be sending my electricity bill checks in plain white envelopes. How gauche!

Then finally the pay-off, the poor photograph I took of the Pygmy Shrews CD. I hate to end this blog on such a down note, all this cool art and then my shitty photograph, but I think it serves as a good contrast between the author and the ubermensch currently populating Montana.

Plus I have an album to listen to.

[I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention the inspirational source of this package, my buddy’s article on the next generation of pigfuck bands here.]